save the world (one kindness at the time)
by atomic muffin
Summary: One doesn't need to be a hero to be a hero. Midoriya never gets One for All, never enters UA, never becomes Hero Deku. It doesn't mean he did nothing worthwhile with his life. Or: the roads Midoriya's life could have taken, from the eyes of the pro heros who would have been his comrades. A set of future AUs from Class 1-A POV. Soft Dekubowl.
1. Chapter 1

**Title** : save the world (one kindness at the time)

 **Summary** : One doesn't need to be a hero to be a _hero_. Midoriya never gets One for All, never enters UA, never becomes Hero Deku. It doesn't mean he did nothing worthwhile with his life.

Or: the roads Midoriya's life could have taken, from the eyes of the pro heros who would have been his comrades. A set of future AUs from Class 1-A POV. Soft Dekubowl.

 **Rated** : T

 **Warning** : none. Except Denki being A Failed Adult.

 **Note** : the astonishing Kalied369 betad this chapter, kudos to her!

So this a set of AU where Midoriya doesn't become a hero, but gets another job. Each AU pictures a different member of class 1-A meeting Midoriya in a specific profession.

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I. **Chargebolt**

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Denki is a hero. In the course of his admittedly short career, he had to tell people that their money have very little chances of being retrieved, tell families that their homes have been destroyed, tell parents that their child will never come back from their walk. He's had to explain more often than he would have thought that, despite the fact he is indeed a licenced pro-hero, he _can't do anything_.

Therefore, he knows what the face of a bearer of bad news looks like. And that wrinkle above his new accountant and potential business saver's nose is a _'I don't want to make you panic but shit is about to get real'_ expression if Denki has ever seen one.

"It's terrible, isn't it?" Denki blanches. "Don't sugarcoat anything, man, tell me the raw truth."

From the other side of the desk, Midoriya Izuku blinks up questioningly. Bites his bottom lip. Clears his throat. Meanwhile, Denki is dying inside from anxious anticipation.

Eventually, the green-haired man puts an end to Denki's misery with a careful and devastating, "... _Well_."

Denki instantly bursts into tears. Because he certainly isn't a pretty crier, it looks ugly and pathetic and _he can't help it dammit so fuck off already_. He is allowed to drip snot and bitter tears in his own goddamn office if he feels like it.

Alright, to be fair, Denki can be the chillest person around in very specific scenarios. Put him inside a burning building two seconds away from collapsing, or in the middle of an impromptu street fight with ten enraged villains and he won't bat an eyelash. It's the little things of adulthood his nerves can't handle. The simplest paperwork is enough stress to make him hysterical. Banks terrify the shit out of him. Insurances are hell on earth, nothing less. Bills are a regular source of cyclic depression. Taxes... _taxes_. There is no word to portray how viscerally Denki loathes taxes.

Needless to say, for the sake of his own mental health, Denki avoids any form of adulting unrelated to heroics as he would the plague, an attitude that may or may not be directly responsible for his current problems.

Kaminari Denki, alias Chargebolt. Decent Hero, Failed Adult. He'll tell Mina to write that on his tombstone, with 'Mind Your Taxes, Kids' underneath. People need to know. Let his premature heart attack thanks to administration-induced stress be their warning.

To his credit, Midoriya handles the situation with perfect tact. Considering his profession, it might not be the first time a grown ass dude he met ten minutes ago has lost his shit in front of him.

"It's not that bad, Chargebolt-san," the man announces soothingly, before reaching for his satchel. "There."

Denki catches the offered handkerchief like a drowning man would a lifeline. A handkerchief. Who carries handkerchiefs in their time and age? Midoriya Izuku, unassuming accountant of his state, that's who. An _All Might-themed_ handkerchief, mind you. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing to ever happen to him. Best because _All Might-themed_ handkerchief, how cute is that? Worst because _All Might-themed_ handkerchief. Denki is an ass, but not enough of an ass to blow his snot on the Symbol of Peace's blinding smile.

Tears are an acceptable compromise, Denki decides as he wipes his eyes, sending a mental apology to his former teacher for daring to soil All Might's sacro-sainted brand with his unworthy body fluids.

"Thanks," Denki says between two sniffs. Contrary to common belief, he does have some manners. "So. Are we bankrupt or something?"

Midoriya leans back in the chair, his expression politely neutral. "Not yet. I have to be honest with you, however; your agency's financial situation is by no means stellar."

Denki glares dejectedly at the piles of paperwork Midoriya has meticulously ordered on the desk. Fuck his accounts. Fuck his life. And fuck his so-called partners, who had the gall to leave him on his own to deal with The Real Problems while they had fun saving the world. "Yeah. Thought so."

Bakugou had taken one glance at their finances, and promptly burst out laughing. _Bakugou_. _Laughing_. Mockingly, but still. He even thanked them for being such irredeemable losers and making his fucking day. What an asshole.

But then he gave them Midoriya's number, _'a decent enough accountant.'_ Which, in Bakugou-speak, meant the dude had to be a math genius or something. Apparently, they're childhood friends. Denki had honestly expected a nerdier version of Bakugou, not a pleasantly plain-looking dude in bright red boots and casual jeans who has yet to insult Denki for being the most idiotic person on the planet, even though Denki really _is_ the most idiotic person on the planet and clearly deserves to be called out for his stupid ways.

"If I may be so bold…" Midoriya adds, pointing at a specific pile of bills that probably should make sense to Denki, since it's _his_ shit, but they really don't. "Did something happen four months ago? You were doing fine until then. Not _brilliantly_ , per se, but...fine."

Ah. Well. How to explain without sounding even more of a moron than he already does.

In theory, the idea of a shared hero agency between Kirishima, Ashido and himself had seemed like a fantastic plan. And it is! They've been great friends for years now, they're on the same vibe from a professional and personal point of view, and they work perfectly well together. The 'idiot trio,' as Bakugou calls them, understands each other without having to speak, and their agency is plenty of fun. Not all the time, of course, like, let's say, right now. But Denki is usually happy, if not elated, to go to work with his bros.

And there might lay the core of their problems. Ashido, Kirishima and himself might be a little _too_ in sync. Read: none of them can fill out paperwork for shit.

And that's where Sero comes in. Sero is not like the idiot trio. Sero is an endless pool of common sense and practicality. Unfortunately, Sero has been gone for four months now, since he accepted that offer in America for an internship. It's an amazing opportunity and Denki is very happy for him, but he misses his bro, and he also misses the guy who handled all the tedious adulting parts of the job.

It's only for a year, but at the pace they're going, there might not be an agency to come back to when he finally returns to the country.

"Oh, I remember now!" Midoriya keeps going before Denki gets a chance to speak. "Cellophane left for America right?"

"Uh yeah." Denk blinks, taken aback. "How do you know that?"

Red Riot, Alien Queen, Cellophane and Chargebolt cannot, by any means, be considered small fry, but Kaminari has no illusions of his own importance. They aren't known on a global scale like Ground Zero or Shoto are, so it's a bit surprising someone as unrelated to the hero industry as Midoriya would know about that. Maybe he did his homework before accepting their offer _cough_ begging _cough_. He seems like the type. Or maybe Bakugou told him about Sero?

Ah. Bakugou talking about them to his friend. Not likely. Except to complain about their astonishing levels of stupidity.

"Aha, I'm kind of a hero nerd?" Midoriya confesses, grinning sheepishly. "I'm a huge fan of your work on the Osaka's underground drug cartel affair, by the way."

"Ehe, thanks!" He brightens, sincerely flattered. Not many people know about that. "You _really_ are a hero nerd. Must be weird being Japan's top hero's friend!"

Midoriya's smile strains on his lips. Oops. Denki might have put his foot in his mouth again. In front of the person who may save his job, too. Before he gets the chance to apologize for his misconduct, the green-haired man flashes a very huge, very fake smile at him. "Sort of, I guess! Anyway. Let's see what I can do for you…"

Denki promptly forgets all Bakugou-related thoughts as he stares anxiously at Midoriya's pensive frown. "First of all, your office bills." Midoriya slides the incriminating folder to Denki's side. It's nice to try to make him involved in the process, but, unfortunately, he's still dumb as fuck. Denki makes a point to squint at the numbers and nods along as if he has any clue what is happening.

"Your electricity bills are simply outrageous," the accountant mumbles almost inaudibly. "Hm, it might be due to your Quirk. Can't be helped then. Maybe we can negotiate with the electricity company for a special tariff."

Well. A part of it can't be helped. Like, villain attacks and stuff. The other part, however...is just Denki getting into full-on fights with Mina for the last slice of cake or having Quirks contests with Kirishima. Or being bored out of his mind and electrifying himself for the fun of it. Incidentally short-circuiting the whole building, which might be the cause of their 'outrageous electricity expenses.'

Eh. Oops? He did say he's a Failed Adult, so. On the plus side, his partners are equally losers, so that's something.

Denki wisely chooses not to say anything while Midoriya goes through the list of reasons why they are nearly bankrupt. From taxes to bills passing through their 'ridiculously low wages,' nothing in their subpar lifestyle is spared. Calculations are made. Diagrams are drawn. Hypotheses and potential courses of action are listed by order of preference.

To be honest, Denki has never been so awed by maths and basic common sense in his entire life until now. Midoriya truly is something else. This man can tackle finance as fast as Bakugou can say fuck.

Denki might be slightly in love. Just a bit. In his defence, people who have never been subjected to the way Midoriya's eyes glint when he gets excited about tax returns don't get to judge him. Also, he has yet to get rid of that unfortunate tendency of his to offer his heart to whoever pays attention to him.

It's been a very long hour, okay? And Midoriya has just single-handedly saved his life project, all the while being adorably intense, saying words like _price market_ or _terms of reference_ as if they have personally offended him. He's unfairly pretty too. Denki bitterly regrets ever thinking the guy looked 'plain.' Joke's on him now.

So it's a perfectly normal emotional response. At least, that's his story and he's religiously sticking with it.

"Dude." He leans forward eagerly once his new best friend is done ranting about hero rates inflation or whatever. "Dude. You are my _hero_."

Midoriya's face instantly turns into a bright red color. It shouldn't look cute.

It looks really cute.

"I… I'm just an accountant." He laughs meekly. "It's… nothing special, really…"

"Hey, it's special _to me_ ," Denki interrupts the incoming self-deprecation. "You're really amazing, man!"

"Oh. Thank you. It was my pleasure to help!"

And then Midoriya smiles gently at him. It feels like hundreds of stars are glowing underneath that innocent stretch of lips, like angels are looking down at Denki and he's basking under their glory. That smile alone should come with its own fucking warning.

Denki isn't emotionally prepared for this. So he can't be blamed for short-circuiting. He really can't.

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* * *

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Technically this should be in eighteen or nineteen parts, depending on my willingness to write on Mineta POV. Might be asking too much of me to be honest. Most chapters aren't planned at all yet, so I'm open to suggestion regarding what job I should do and with who. Convince me people ^^

My updating schedule goes like this: I'll update when I uptade. If I update. Fair warning XD.

Please leave a comment on your way out!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title** : save the world (one kindness at the time)

 **Summary** : One doesn't need to be a hero to be a _hero_. Midoriya never gets One for All, never enters UA, never becomes Hero Deku. It doesn't mean he did nothing worthwhile with his life.

Or: the roads Midoriya's life could have taken, from the eyes of the pro heros who would have been his comrades. A set of future AUs from Class 1-A POV. Soft Dekubowl.

 **Rated** : T

 **Warning** : Quirk backlash. A older woman making sexual innuendos to an adult younger man.

 **Note** : the astonishing Kalied369 betad this chapter, kudos to her!

 **Chapter Note** : for reminder, Sugarman's powers work like this (insert wiki quote here): "Rikidou's Quirk allows him to increase his strength five-fold, for three minutes, by consuming 10 grams of sugar. For every additional 10 grams of sugar he ingests, he extends the time of increased strength by another three minutes. However, when converting sugar into strength, his cognitive functions gradually drop, making him very sleepy afterward."

If the writing seems off at times, it's on purpose. Mostly. Probably.

* * *

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II. **Sugarman**

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Sometimes, life goes such ways that a man must look back at the improbable chain of events that led him to his current position, and reflect on his poor life choices. Contemplate the fickleness of dreams. Ponder about the depressingly crushing importance of circumstances. Despair of his disputable decision-making skills.

Such a time has come for Rikidou.

Become a hero, they said. You'll be famous, recognized, loved even, they said. Fight evil, save orphans, change the world for the better, they said. No one ever mentioned his job could possibly entail laying in some random backstreet at the wee hours of the morning, waiting for reinforcements or for his strength to miraculously rush back to him. Hoping the villain he has been aiming to capture won't find him, utterly drained, his head dangerously close to a vomit puddle, two seconds away from falling asleep.

Alright. After more reflection, maybe Rikidou shouldn't have insisted he could work just fine with the flu. Maybe it was as much of a shitty idea as his boss had yelled. Maybe he should have stayed home, made soup, taken his meds and watched kids shows until he blissfully passed out, instead of rushing in the pursuit of a criminal.

The reward seemed worth the risk at the time. Rikidou has been trying to catch Desdor for _months_ now. He wasn't going to let the opportunity pass because of a mere inconvenience like an _infection_.

Well. Joke's on him, the infection won. He's man enough to admit when he's messed up.

The familiar lure of sleepiness tugs on his eyelids. Dammit Quirk, not now. Rikidou can't fall asleep in the gutter, at the mercy of the first villain or slightly ill-intentioned person passing through.

Stay awake, he tells his body firmly. Stay awaaaaa…

"Oh, dear."

Rikidou blinks up and squints at the blurry figure looming over him. Both his eyes and neurological system are being completely useless, as the only intel he can gather about his potential aggressor is _green_. Good job, eyes. Good job.

"Uhm. Sugarman-san?" Green asks hesitantly. "Forgive me for my forwardness, but you don't look very good?"

Oh, Green recognized him by sight alone. That doesn't happen very often to Rikidou. He's not as wildly popular as some of his former classmates, and he's still a sidekick.

He tries to say something reassuring like, _fear not, brave citizen, I'm in perfect good health and ready to serve_ , and more realistically, _I'm cool, just chilling in the gutter as you do, don't worry about me_. Except his throat, following the lead of the rest of his anatomy, has decided to be dissident and refuses to obey the simplest command.

"Lkgfjlgf," is a close enough approximation of what actually comes out of his mouth.

It doesn't have the soothing effect he was aiming for, if the nervous gasp he hears is any indication. "Oooookay. Give me a second, Sugarman-san."

Sure. Rikidou is in no hurry. He can wait. Not sure what he's waiting for exactly, but he's waiting.

The familiar sound of a ringtone echoes somewhere above him.

"...Ah! Sorry to wake you... I just got to the shop? I'm fine! Don't worry! I'm not in danger! I think? I'm aware it's four in the morning, but…"

Four in the morning. Tough. There are still stars visible, glowing faintly in the dark sky. Tiny fireballs rolling under his eyelids, falling in the sweet abyss of unconsciousness…

"Sugarman-san! Don't fall asleep!" A hand claps his shoulder, shaking him gently.

Asleep? Pff. Who's falling asleep. Not Rikidou. "I'm good," he tries to say. It sounds more like "imood" but at this point, he can hardly afford to be picky. Knowing how to appreciate small victories is an important skill.

"Of course I'm going to help him! It's not like I can just leave him here, especially with the shop so close… Sorry, but I'm not doing that. I'll be fine! Okaybyeseeyousoonmaybe!"

The hand squeezes his shoulder. Rikidou manages to keep his eyes open out of spite alone. "Alright, Sugarman-san! Help is on its way! My place is just on the corner so we'll go wait there, okay?"

Oh. That's a very nice offer of Green, but a bit ambitious. He can't really tell how strong Green is, but Rikidou is kind of...heavy. He weighs like a ton of bricks, if bricks were entire planets, to quote Kirishima. So it's very unlikely some stranger will manage to carry him.

"Alright, Hero-san!" Green cheerfully declares. What kind of superior human being can find the will to sound cheerful _at four in the morning_? "Let's try this! Are you ready?"

A foot slips in front his legs. Two hands find their way underneath his arms. Rikidou absolutely isn't ready.

"Plus ultraaaaaaaa," Green hisses as he single-handedly lifts Rikidou and his massive body from the ground and into what can arguably be called a standing position.

Oh. _Oh_. Rikidou has somehow forgotten how challenging verticality can be. Also, gravity? Harshest bitch ever. If not for Green's steady shoulder under his armpit and muscular arm behind his back, he would have fallen back straight to his starting point.

"There we go," Green's chirpy voice raises from underneath the mop of hair Rikidou's cheek is currently resting on. At least, he's assuming it's hair. It's green, curly and very, very sooooft. "Eeeh, please don't fall asleep on me, Sugarman-san! Stay with me for a few more minutes, okay?"

Ugh, okay. Steps. He can do those. Steps are easy. Rikidou has been doing steps for more than twenty years. Piece of cake.

Ah. Infamous last words. The disaster that follows might not be Rikido's most embarrassing moment, but it certainly comes close. Staggering cannot begin to describe the mess his feet are doing. His head has close encounters with the wall no less than four times. If not for Green's steady presence and encouraging words, he would have given up and curled up on the dirt where he belonged long ago.

Anyway. It's the longest twenty minutes of Rikido's life, but they get there eventually, and that's the most important part.

"Home sweet home!" Green declares as he looks for his keys in his pocket, his happy tone betraying little of the exhaustion he must be feeling.

After that, Rikidou doesn't remember much. He remembers crashing into something, though he has no idea what. He remembers trying to apologize for it, and that only gibberish nonsense came out of his mouth when he did. He remembers falling onto the softest, most appreciated bed in existence. He remembers a soothing voice wishing him sweet dreams.

And then. Blissful, divine post-Quirk abuse coma.

He wakes up hours later, confused and lost, to the delightful smell of baked goods. He blinks at the cracked ceiling while blurry fragments of his catastrophic night come back to his mind. Desdor. Flu. Street. _Green_.

He sits up abruptly. The room he has been sleeping in is completely unfamiliar. It looks like a small storage of sorts. In addition to the bed camp he's currently lying on, he spots a miniscule desk buried under piles of files, a shelf filled with books and all the remaining space occupied by boxes.

And on his lap, an All Might-themed blanket, which is reassuring in itself. People who unironically buy and use All Might paraphernalia cannot be villains, right?

Also, that smell. That smell cannot come from anywhere but Heaven's kitchen.

Rikidou puts a foot on the floor and takes a tentative step. Motor skill functions seem to be finally back in business, he notices with numb relief as he navigates between the graveyard of boxes. He stumbles from the dark nest he has been resting in into a brightly lit room. Shades of red, blue and yellow bloom under his eyelids, and the sweet scent of pure sugar dazzles his senses.

Oh. A _bakery_.

"Finally, you're awake," a familiar voice says, sounding incredibly bored. "Took you long enough."

Rikidou squints at the counter confusedly. Perched on a stool with her legs gracefully crossed and casually sipping at a cup of coffee, Yuu Takeyama stares at him over her laptop. She looks unimpressed as fuck with her sidekick, but, to be fair, when doesn't she?

"Boss? What are you doing here?" he croaks, his throat as dry as a summer afternoon. "What happened with Desdor?"

"We got them of course." She rolls her eyes, putting her navy blue mug back on the table. "I can't believe you acted so stupidly. You're supposed to be the reasonable one, for fuck's sake."

Well. By comparison to the cast of reckless fools composing his former high school class, Rikidou is indeed quite reasonable. That doesn't mean he's devoid of moments of brief insanity. "My apologies. I don't know what I was thinking."

The dry line of her mouth softens. Mount Lady likes to act like she doesn't care about anything but her own fame, yet deep within, she's fiercely protective of her underlings. "Fine. Don't do it again."

"Aye, aye," Rikidou agrees easily as he takes a thorough look at the room.

The bakery is colored in bright tones of yellow and blue, and posters of various heroes hang on the walls with a clear predominance of All Might. The room is divided into two parts by the counter, where the frankly criminally enticing pastries and various assortment of cakes are on display. His boss is sitting at one of the three high tables on the customers' side, her hair glowing under the sunlight passing through the large windows.

There is no way this is still morning, Rikidou realizes with striking horror. " _What time is it_?"

Mount Lady side-eyes her laptop indifferently. "Three pm. You slept a lot."

Three pm. Rikidou has been imposing on a stranger for _ten hours_. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Why, I'm not heartless." She smirks. "You were sleeping so peacefully. Don't worry, Midoriya-kun kept me company. _Great company._ "

"...Midoriya-kun?" he repeats dumbly. "Who's Mi…"

The front door opens and a bell rings softly.

A six-foot mess of sweetness walks in, a paper bag secured between one strong arm and a chest covered by a Froppy-themed sweatshirt. The green of the fabric pales in comparison to the moss shade of his soft-looking hair and glinting eyes.

It's a problem. Rikidou has a love-hate relationship with sugar. It's both his greatest strength and worst weakness. And, unfortunately, this person looks so sweet he can practically feel his teeth rotting just due to the unexpected visual.

"Sugarman-san!" the man who can only be Green greets Rikidou cheerfully. "You are awake!"

Two simultaneous thoughts pop up in the back of his head. One: this is suspicious timing if Rikidou's ever seen one. Two: if this person isn't an angel pretending to be a baker, he will eat his own costume.

"Midoriya-kun." Mount Lady leans forwards interestedly. "I kept the shop. Just like you said. No one came by, though."

"Thank you so much, Takayama-san!" Gre... _Midoriya-san_ says as he puts his bag on the counter.

Rikidou manages to tear his eyes from Green's mind-shattering smile-and-freckles combo to glance at his boss incredulously. Takayama Yuu, working for free? Not bloody likely. It's as unlikely as her decision to "let him sleep peacefully."

And then he realizes it's not her interested face. It's her interested _interested_ face, and there is a big, frightening nuance between the two. Rikidou has seen his boss on a Let's Get Laid hunt before. It never ends well, mostly for the object of her fickle affections. When it comes to romantic entanglements, Takayama has the delicacy and attention span of a drugged toddler.

"My _pleasure_ ," she purrs shamelessly, much to her sidekick's growing horror. "Say, how come you have a bed in your office? I'm curious."

Oh, no. She isn't implying what he thinks she's implying, is she? Her leering grin tells him that yes, she definitely is.

"Oh, that." Midoriya-san chuckles innocently, either oblivious to the innuendo or skillfully ignoring it. "I wake very early to prepare everything for the day. And I usually take a nap in the afternoon while my part-time employee handles the shop. I told her to take the day off today."

So not only did Rikidou impose on this kind man, but he stole his bed as well. Great. Marvellous. True hero material here.

"Midoriya-san," Rikidou utters, bowing low as his mother had taught him, "I cannot apologize enough for my shameful behavior. You have the gratitude of the Sato family."

And his family doesn't kid around life debts. Gratitude is A Big Deal for Satous. It's the samurai old blood, his grandfather liked to brag.

"Aaah, that's not necessary, Sugarman-san!" The baker shakes his hands in front of himself frantically. "I barely did anything at all, compared to what heros do everyday!"

... Do they? Which is more valuable at the end of the day, paid heroism or spontaneous and selfless kindness? Rikidou knows plenty of pro-heros who wouldn't have done what Midoriya-san did, who helped without even thinking twice.

"Nonetheless, I will not forget your kindness, Midoriya-san. I owe you a favor. Ask and you shall receive, so long as it is within the limits of my power," Rikidou promises sincerely. "In the meantime, we won't bother you any further."

"Weeeell…" Mount Lady raises an eyebrow.

"Don't you have reporters to talk to about your last catch, Boss?" Rikidou argues flatly, appealing to the only thing she loves more than a pretty face: public recognition.

She sighs visibly but closes her laptop quickly. "Oh, fiiine. Killjoy. Bye bye, Midoriya-kun. Thanks for taking such good care of my dumb sidekick. I'm sure we'll see each other again soon enough."

Midoriya-san's green eyes widen. "Oh, wait, please! I have something for you before you leave!"

"Oh, no, please don't, you've already done so much," Rikidou protests weakly while the baker hops behind the counter and hastily puts pastries in a carton box decorated with All Might colors.

"Nonsense!" Midoriya-san smiles eagerly as he hurries back to their side, the box open in his hands. "Sugarman-san needs sweets to get back in shape, no? I don't have much left, though…"

He accepts the offering without thinking twice. Mount Lady peeks curiously over Rikidou's shoulder and smirks when she spots his bemused expression.

Hero-themed pastries. Midoriya-san makes _hero-themed pastries_. A Kaminari caramel éclair decorated with a small chocolate bolt on the top, an Ashido pink meringue with cute little almond corns to the side, a Kirishima red, spiky rocher, a sparkling Aoyama cupcake and, naturally, a Todoroki strawberry shortcake.

"I'm out of Sugar Rushes." The kindest man on Earth shakes his head mournfully. "Those always sell out fast."

If not for his draconian education, the 'marry me' blossoming on his tongue would have burst out in the open, and his boss would never have let his humiliation go.

"Thank you," he says instead, his voice rough with emotion. " _Thank you_."

The surge of affection takes him completely by surprise. He hasn't noticed how deeply he missed his former classmates before this moment.

"It's nothing!" Midoriya-san waves his hand dismissively.

It's not nothing. It's really, really not.

Kindness is never meaningless. Especially when it comes with delicious pastries.

.

* * *

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I'm..still midway unhappy with this chapter. Oh well. I hope I didn't wrote anything too offensive to bakers reading this, keep in mind I have no idea what I'm talking about and I'm just bullshitting my way through this XD

Also, I couldn't find a way to include it fluantly in the story but for your information, the name of the bakery is United Scones of Smash. You're welcome.

Please leave a review on your way out. They feed my soul.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title** : save the world (one kindness at the time)

 **Summary** : One doesn't need to be a hero to be a _hero_. Midoriya never gets One for All, never enters UA, never becomes Hero Deku. It doesn't mean he did nothing worthwhile with his life.

Or: the roads Midoriya's life could have taken, from the eyes of the pro heros who would have been his comrades. A set of future AUs from Class 1-A POV. Soft Dekubowl.

Each chapter work independently from each other, Deku doesn't have 20 jobs at once ^^ HOWEVER, all AUs share the same starting point diverging from canon. I hope it's somehow clearer.

 **Rated** : T

 **Warning** : social anxiety, aborted panic attack, convention craziness, rabid fangirls, CRACK

 **Note** : the astonishing Kalied369 betad this chapter, kudos to her!

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III. **Shouto**

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Before his high school days, Shouto used to be terrible at social interactions.

Well. This isn't exactly true. Shouto developed an acute radar for anger signs out of necessity at a very young age. He could rate his father's level of fury on his inner Asshole Scale from the sound of his footsteps, the temperature of the room or the way his fists clamped. Endeavor's mood interpretation was an indispensable skill to have during in his childhood, and after. He also knew all the nuances of his mother's fear, read frustration in his brother's neutral glances, recognized the various shades of sadness in his sister's smile.

At fifteen, Shouto was an expert on the social microsystem that was the Todoroki household, but anything outside of those extremely specific situations was a source of constant confusion. He breezed through middle school as he did through life: without understanding a third of what the fuck was happening behind polite smiles and stifled laughter. He never bothered to soften his opinions the rare times he was asked to express them. For him, lies were weapons of necessity, not of convenience. Subtleties and implications passed completely over his head. Nonverbal communication involving anything but aggressiveness might as well have been an alien language to him.

Not-Todoroki people confused the hell out of Shouto, and he avoided interacting with them as much as physically possible. It was a solution that pleased everyone as other people quickly became as weirded out by his attitude as he was by theirs.

And then high school happened.

Shouto entered UA assuming high school would be a simple extension of middle school with more heroics. As usual, his classmates would at first make an attempt to include him, and would soon give up on him and his crippling social awkwardness. No big deal. Shouto knew that dance by heart. It wasn't like those people could understand the fucked up mess his life was, anyway. He'd rather stay on his own, distraction-free, and work hard until he could be rid of Endeavor.

That's not what happened. His new classmates were not content to let him brood in the corner, no, they weren't. They kept on coming back to him, grumbling about homework, asking for or offering advice, dragging him to movie nights, smacking his back or clasping his shoulder, talking, talking, _talking_.

It was hell at first. He messed up so many times. He couldn't understand why they wouldn't leave him alone the way everyone else not directly related to him eventually did. Ironically, Shouto spent more sleepless nights wondering anxiously about what Kaminari meant when he called him "bro" than worrying about any potential villain attacks.

Eventually, he learnt. He learnt Kaminari just called everyone he liked "bro," regardless of blood ties or gender. He learnt Kirishima used touch as a form of communication. He learnt that Yaoyorozu's polite smile was actually a call for help, as in, _Someone save me from this pervert before I kill him_. He learnt that when Aizawa growled, _Bother me with teen bullshit and die,_ he really meant, _I'm always here if you need to talk_.

It was nice to be part of a group linked by something other than fear of a common enemy, to feel like he belonged somewhere, somewhere he wanted to be for once.

Years later, Shouto is still awkward as fuck, and probably always will be. But at least he's not as utterly lost as he used to be. So he thought this year he could try visiting Hero Con instead of hiding in his room until he had to sit for his panel and fake being a semi-adjusted member of society. He thought he should stop using his former classmates as shields and experience the crowd himself like an actual grownup. He thought, _What's a few hundred fans compared to the League of Villains?_

The answer is: _overwhelming_.

"Shouto-sama!" a girl dressed as Uravity asks timidly. "It's such an honor! Ca...can I please have an autograph? I'm a huge fan!"

"Me too, me too!" another screeches. "Sign my tee-shirt, pleeeeeeease!"

"So you can sell it on eBay?" her friend snorts, nudging her in the side.

"Bitch, you know I _won't_. Shouto-kun, you can sign my _ass_. I can't sell _that_ on eBay, can I?" she retorts, winking heavily in his direction.

The crowd surrounding Shouto erupts into hysterical laughter and whistles. Shouto wishes the floor would hurry and swallow him up already. What an idiot he was, thinking he would be anywhere near ready for the hardcore fauna of Hero Con. His only response to romantic advances is to clam up until someone saves him from his own embarrassment or the proposer leaves on their own.

"You slut," a woman wearing an uncomfortably bold Creati-inspired costume hisses before sliding closer, effectively invading whatever personal space he had left. "Say, Shouto-san. Do you have a girlfriend? You're so secretive no one knows _anything_ about you, ya know?"

"Maybe he swings the other way!" a teenage boy laughs under his Sun Eater hood.

"Maybe you should shut your mouth, kiddo," she retorts with a scathing smile.

"Mama, mama, look, it's _Shouto_! For real!"

"Shouto-sama!"

"Shouto-san!"

Noises are everywhere. Noise around him, noise in his ears, noise from their mouths, noise in his head, he cannot escape it, he _cannot_. If he runs for his life his publicist will have a fit. If he curls up on the floor and waits to die, his publicist will skin him alive and hang his remains on the wall.

Distantly, he recognizes the twist in his belly as the signal for an imminent panic attack. Why, hello again, Anxiety, it's been a while since we last met.

 _Someone save him from people please please please_.

"Shouto-san!" an excited voice pops from somewhere on his right side. "There you are!"

A wall of green slips between him and the rest of crowd. Shouto blinks down to a dazzling smile nested between two freckled dimples.

Oh. _Oh._

"I was looking for you everywhere!" The complete stranger chuckles sheepishly. "You're going to be late to your panel!"

His panel? He's not supposed to go there for another three hours. Surely he didn't messed up that badly?

"Hm?" is the only thing his mouth manages to reply.

"Sorry, sorry, everyone!" His potential savior half-turns towards Shouto's group of rabid fans. "Shouto-san has to go right now!"

The stranger grabs Shouto's arm and gently but surely directs him outside of the circle. Still numb from both his burgeoning freak out and the sheer power of the green-haired man's kind expression, he allows the manhandling without protest. The crowd opens for them as if Green Hair were Moses himself.

 _My hero_ , Shouto thinks as they leave behind his bemused fans.

Finally distanced from the ever-watching eyes of the crowd, he feels his entire body relax like a deflating balloon. The pressure on his chest lessens, the shade of grey underneath his retina fades away. It's kind of funny in a way. He never feels this stressed when fighting villains.

Normal people frighten him more than any direct confrontation ever will.

"I apologize for the trouble I caused," he offers once his brain has regained basic social functions. "I thought I wasn't expected until 5 pm."

"Oh, you aren't!" Green Hair _blushes_ , abruptly releasing his hold on Shouto's arm. "Not that I know of, at least? I'm not actually part of the staff. I just thought you looked like you were a bit...err...overwhelmed?"

Well, he was. But he has been told before that his face is as easy to read as an ancient Egyptian manuscript. Even people he has known his whole life find it difficult to understand his inner feelings, so it's surprising, if not slightly worrying, that a perfect stranger managed to spot his unease in half a second and decided to intervene.

Now that he thinks about it, Green Hair is not even wearing the bright orange tee-shirt of the event staff members. That's a testimony of how far you can go if you look like you know what you're doing. Master the face of habit and no one will question your legitimity.

"Please forgive my forwardness!" His savior bows his head, his face red with embarrassment. "I...I kind of assumed you wanted out but couldn't find a polite way to tell your fans off?"

...That's exactly what happened. This man's keen insight is equally concerning and endearing. Mostly endearing, to be honest.

"HEY!" he hears from behind. "HIS PANEL ISN'T FOR ANOTHER THREE HOURS!"

"Oh, crap," Green Hair swears, peeking over his shoulder. "They noticed! And they're coming for us! Run, Shouto-san. RUN RUN RUN!"

There was a time when running away would have been unthinkable for Shouto. Heroes didn't run away. Heroes faced their enemies proudly without showing weakness. Running was good for cowards, and Shouto was not allowed to be coward.

Once, Aizawa-sensei took a single glance at Shouto's dislocated shoulder after he got hurt ignoring his partner's warnings and flatly declared: " _Not on my watch, kid_."

Three years under Eraserhead's unforgiving tutelage later, Shouto is more than conditioned to react promptly to emergency safety measures. If an ally screams to get the fuck out, you can bet he will get the fuck out before you have the time to say "coward."

So he runs, speeding through the crowd, dodging cosplayers and jumping over stalls with a determined stare.

Shouto isn't sure what he's running away from exactly, but he's low-key having fun. He's feeling way better slaloming like a crazy loon between karaoke scenes and merch shops with a perfect stranger rather than walking in the crowd and trying to make himself as small as possible, hoping no one will notice him.

He can almost taste an amused chuckle on the back of his throat, aching to burst out. What a strange sensation. Shouto doesn't know where he's going or even _why_ he's going but for once, _it doesn't matter_.

Midway through the Support Tech Section, Green Hair halts, perks up and grabs his hand before jerking him to the side. "Oh, thank god. This way, Shouto-san!"

At this point, Shouto is so far gone with giddiness that he doesn't bother questioning his rescuer/kidnapper's instructions. The amount of instinctual trust he's putting in a possible enemy should worry him, and it probably will once the adrenaline wears off. In the meantime, he has rabid fangirls to hide from.

Shouto throws himself inside the booth of the scariest support technician he knows without batting an eyelash, Green Hair on his tail.

"Weeeeell. What do we have here?" Hatsume Mei deadpans sideways, looking bored as fuck. She usually does when she's not yelling about her babies.

Shouto stares blankly at the place he's just barged into without thinking. It's one of the really big stands, arranged in a huge rectangle with a reserve in the center. The stall is full of gear pieces and various gadgets Shouto cannot begin to imagine the function of. It's clearly the biggest booth of the support section.

"Mei-san, if anyone asks, you haven't seen us," Green Hair says, gesturing at Shouto to go under the counter.

Of course Shouto goes under the counter. In for a penny, in for a pound, he's not going to put up a fuss right now. His strange new acquaintance and fellow fan escapist wastes no time following him. They somehow manage to both fit in the small space available with Green Hair's leg slipped under his.

A surprisingly muscular leg, he cannot help but notice. Ahem.

"You know what, you show me your portable reactor designs, and I'll swear to the gods themselves I have never seen your mug in my life, mwahaha!" Hatsume cackles from above.

"Deal!"

… _What_. "Portable reactors?" he asks curiously.

"Shhh!" Stranger whispers frantically, going as far as to put his hand over Shouto's mouth. " _I can hear them coming._ "

It's only when Shouto seriously considers biting his hand as if he were not a day above five years old that he realizes how surreal the entire ordeal is. He's currently hiding under a table with a grown-up man he met not five minutes ago, trying to make as little noise as possible so an impromptu squad of prepubescents and not-so-prepubescent fangirls tracking them down don't find them.

This might actually be the most ridiculous thing to ever happen to him. He can hardly remember pulling a stunt like this when he was an actual child.

"Fuck, where did they go?" he hears from the other side of the counter.

"Dunno. Maybe we should stop, Rin-chan. Clearly the guy doesn't want to talk to us."

" _You think_?" Green Hair mumbles under his breath. Shouto makes a point to glare at him and puts a finger over his mouth in the universal gesture for _shut up,_ even though the man obviously isn't in the wrong.

"Are you kidding me? This crazy asshole _kidnapped_ Shouto-kun in front of us. Hey, hey, you! Have you seen Shouto?"

Green Hair's eyes widen comically. Shouto has never been closer to laughing hysterically in more than twenty years of existence.

"Who?" Hatsume—bless her asocial soul—replies flatly.

"Pro-hero Shouto? Tall, muscular, insanely handsome? Half-red, half-white hair, you can't miss him."

"Never saw him!" the support technician lies surprisingly skillfully. "Can I interest you in some of our products instead? We've got smoke screens! Portable shields that can resist the biggest explosions! The smallest mics you'll find on the market! Or maybe you're more of a pepper spray kind of gal? Our personal brand will make a grown man want to bawl his eyes out, I guarantee it! I'd know, I designed it!"

"Uh," the voice Shouto has nicknamed Almost Reasonable Girl hums curiously. "Bawl his eyes out, you say?"

"Oh, my god. Stay focused, we're on a mission! We have to find him before the other bitches. C'mon, let's try this way!"

"Come back later, dear customer!" Hatsume chirps.

They both wait for their voices to fade away. Green Hair looks like the embodiment of "carefully listening." If he were a dog, he'd have both ears risen upright.

 _No one should be allowed to be this cute, dammit_.

" _I think they're gone for good_ ," he whispers to Shouto, who nods solemnly in reply.

Neither of them make a move to come out of their hiding place.

"Eh. If you're planning to stay there, I might as well enjoy myself! You can keep the shop while I go to the support conf, Midori-chan!" Hatsume cheers as she pats the counter enthusiastically.

… Midori? Really. Well, then.

Midori gasps loudly and makes a valiant attempt to lunge from under the table. Problem is, his leg is entangled with Shouto's. He ends up crawling out instead of bursting out as he likely meant to.

"What? Wait, no, Mei-san, we had a deal! We agreed you would oversee the stand until 4pm! Aw, sorry, Shouto-san!"

"It's fine," he stoically says, dodging Midori's elbow before it has a chance impact his face.

"Bye bye, losers!" Tilting his head up, Shouto can see Hatsume wave at them before skipping out. "Have fun with your boyfriend!"

"Meeeeiiiii-saaaaan!"

If he were someone more socially adapted like Uraraka or Kirishima, he might have dared to pat Midori's back in comfort. But he's not, not even after years of training and people exposure under his belt. In fact, he's currently pondering whether or not he should come out or just stay curled up in there. It's kind of nice, actually. His very own Endeavor-free space.

"Hm… Boss? Are you...are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be at the support conference?" an unknown voice asks.

"I knooooow. Mei pulled a Mei on me," Midori replies mournfully, rising to his feet and dusting off his pants. "And please don't call me boss."

Shouto adjusts his limbs into a cross-legged sit and turns his head upward curiously. A twenty-something-year-old boy with pink curly hair and huge glasses stares back with an amusing expression of astonishment blooming on his face.

" _Bo… Deku-san! What is pro-hero Shouto doing under our counter?_ " he whispers loudly to Midori.

It is only then that Shouto finally takes notice of the uniform Midori's hypothetical employee is wearing: a simple white tee-shirt with the familiar brand of a stylized dark green flame inside an almost complete circle.

Which definitely isn't Hatsume's sigil and proof that Shouto is a massive idiot.

Deku. _The_ Deku. He just randomly raced through Hero Con and hid underneath a table with the rising star of the support industry, and he hadn't even _realized_. The man who single-handedly revolutionized UA's security system. The man Iida has been singing praises about for months now. The man who designed Ground Zero's costume _and_ gear _and_ motorbike—an impressive exploit considering Bakugou was the pickiest, bitchiest bitch to ever bitch.

"Errr." Deku sends Shouto a skittish side glance. "It's...kind of a long story?"

 _Understatement of the century_ , Shouto thinks dryly as he eventually takes it upon himself to leave his improvised nest. Hopefully he manages to stand up with dignity. His inner turmoil and confused giddiness shouldn't be too visible to people who haven't spent years studying what Uraraka calls "Todoroki's secret language." That being said, Deku has proven himself disturbingly accurate in his observations already.

"Welcome, Shouto-san!" the younger man greets him shyly, divided between nervousness and excitement. "Oh, is Deku-san finally going to design your gear? We've been looking forward to this forever! Boss, boss, did you show him the gloves you made yet?"

 _Gloves?_ Shouto blinks questioningly in Deku's direction. The other man's face has turned a heavy shade of red. He whines between his hands, mortified. "Soma-kun! For god's sake, _don't expose me like this_. I swear I'm not a weird stalker or anything, Shouto-san! I just...find your Quirk very interesting to work with! I was working with thermoresistant fabric, and one thing led to another… It just happened once, I promise! I only made fighting gloves! And maybe I dabbled a bit in fire-fueled laser guns and hydrogen bombs, but that's the end of it and okay I'm going to shut up right now."

He does exactly that, burying his head between his hands and mumbling incomprehensibly. Soma, clearly having no mercy for his superior's dignity, adds eagerly, "He made a thermosensible car, too! It only starts if you press the right amount of heat into the detector!"

"That was for Ka...Ground Zero and you know it!" Deku protests.

"Well, the motorbikes maybe...but Ground Zero-san hates cars and he would never be caught dead driving a Toyota, anyway," Soma points out factually.

 _What's wrong with Toyota?_ Shouto thinks distantly. _I like their cars just fine._

"Why maybe but, but, I did it for science! For _science_."

If there is anything UA taught Shouto aside from basic social skills, teamwork and how to exist outside of his father's mad ambitions, it's to accept the inherent absurdity of life and roll with it. Your teacher looks like he's perpetually two seconds away from dying of sleep deprivation and unironically carries a sleeping bag wherever he goes? Roll with it. Your director is a speaking rat with the personality of a cartoon supervillain and more intelligent than you can ever hope to be? Roll with it. The cute and adorable dork currently holding the support industry between his fingers may or may not have built hero gear for you before even meeting you? Fucking. Roll. With. It.

"Alright," Shouto declares seemingly out of the blue.

Deku freezes, before turning toward him somewhat fearfully. "Al… Alright?"

He nods along, offering his hand. "Deku-san. I would be honored if you would consider a partnership with me."

The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. He's currently using the services of the same designer who makes his father's hero gear. His father will absolutely hate it if Shouto ditches them for a notoriously independent engineer. And so will Bakugou, which is always a nice bonus. He can be surprisingly possessive for someone pretending to care about no one but himself.

It will also give him an excuse to bask in the glory of Deku's smile regularly. Everyone wins. Except Endeavor.

"O… Oh!" Deku's mouth erupts into The Smile as he shakes Shouto's hand enthusiastically. Shouto feels slightly weak in the knees. "The honor is mine, Shouto-san! Please, call me Midoriya!"

Okay. That face might be too much for Shouto's fragile emotional coping systems, after all.

Well. There's no turning back now.

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* * *

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Don't ask me what just happened, I don't know either.

I was supposed to write Jirou's POV, but sometimes a author must accept the Todo mood and go with the flow.

As usual, please leave a comment on your way out! They give me strenght.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title** : save the world (one kindness at the time)

 **Summary** : One doesn't need to be a hero to be a _hero_. Midoriya never gets One for All, never enters UA, never becomes Hero Deku. It doesn't mean he did nothing worthwhile with his life.

Or: the roads Midoriya's life could have taken, from the eyes of the pro heros who would have been his comrades. A set of future AUs from Class 1-A POV. Soft Dekubowl.

Each chapter work independently from each other, Deku doesn't have 20 jobs at once ^^ HOWEVER, all AUs share the same starting point diverging from canon. I hope it's somehow clearer.

 **Rated** : T

 **Warning** : heights, kitten in tree

 **Note** : betaed by baeyoong

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* * *

 **IV. Cellophane**

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After ten years of working in the industry, Hanta has come to the conclusion that heroes can roughly be divided into three categories: the Stars, the Lurkers and the Common Folk.

The Stars, also known as Heavy Hitters or 'Look How I Shine', are what the public would associate with heroism in general. They pulverize wicked villains, destroy entire cartels on their own, smash their way out of their problems, and wave vigorously at the camera. They carry hundreds of people to safety without a complaint, lift collapsed buildings as if it were nothing, and they smile, always, even when they really don't feel like smiling. Those heroes, the All Mights, the Hawks, the Red Riots, the Uravities, hold everyone's hopes and dreams inside their victorious fists and reassuring grins.

Well, except for Ground Zero. He's kind of an exception to the rule. A steaming, enraged, _different_ kind of Star, but a Star nonetheless. Bakugou doesn't lift his fans' spirit as much as he drags them up, snarling and insulting and pushing them all the way to _get fucking better already, you bunch of useless extras_. It worked on some people. Ground Zero wouldn't so popular otherwise. And Hanta knows firsthand how magnetic Bakugou's aura can be.

Anyways, Stars- You can't miss them unless you live in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with zero wifi and no acquaintances. Now Lurkers on the other hand. Lurkers, or Underground Heroes, belong to the exact opposite world to their Stars counterparts: the Shadow Realm. The blissful land of hidden knives, covert operations, and _anonymity_ , where the Aizawas, Hagakures, or Tokoyamis roam freely. If only villains and nerds have heard of you, then you're a true Lurker.

And then there is the last category. The Common Folk. The Hero-Next-Door. Your friendly local Cat-Rescuer, Pickpocket-Tackler, "Let Me Help You Cross The Street Ma'am" Hero. Or, as Mineta would cackle, the _losers_. Hanta's fam.

Over the year, Hanta steadily made his way toward the mass of licensed 'losers'. His fifteen years old self would have been appalled, but now Hanta kind of likes it better that way. He had, and still has, occasional moments of glory, like a bank robbery stopped or a family saved from the fourth level of a burning building every once in a while, but all in all, he would rather avoid the media spotlight as much as he can. He's exposed enough as it is just for comingout of the legendary former Class 1-A.

Hanta doesn't mind. He likes being the friendly hero kids high-five in the street and grandmas pinch the cheek of. And he has seen what success to some of his colleagues. Sure the world needs Star heroes, and they sure need Lurkers heroes whether they realize it or not, but they need Cat-Rescuers heroes too. What would a big, mighty Ground Zero do if he had to get a scared and ready to lash out feline back to safety, huh? Explode the tree?

Meanwhile, Hanta is good at Cat-Rescue. After thirty-two Cat In Tree Operations, eight Kids In Tree Missions and one Chicken In Tree How The Hell Did Happen, he would go as far as to say he's an _expert_. But even he never had to rescue a sober, grown ass man from a tree before.

"You okay up there?" Hanta shouts in the general direction of the bright red shoes tangling among the mass of green.

"O-Oh, Hi?" a male sounding voice replies hesitantly. "Hm. I've been better? But, I'm not hurt or anything!"

Hanta chuckles to himself as he examines the material he has to work with. Good ol' oak. Looks solid enough. "That's great! I'm Pro hero Cellophane, I'm coming to get you, alright?"

" _The Taping Hero? Ohmygodthisissoembarrassing_ ," The voice moans, then adds louder, "O-Okay! Sorry for the trouble!"

"It's fine, don't worry," Hanta grins. This person is funny as hell. "So, care to explain how to you ended up there, good citizen?"

In the middle of summer, the oak is flourishing under a deep green mantle. Hanta could use a bit more visibility to act, but he will have to make do anyway.

"Err. Well, you see, I was walking back from work when I heard a kitty meowing. Poor thing seemed to be stuck and...I just climbed? I didn't consider the fact I wouldn't come down with my arms taken and...yeah, it's kind of stupid, but it looked like a good idea at the time…"

Hanta couldn't contain the amusement swelling in his chest from bubbling out of his mouth. Not very professional he supposes, but _c'mon_. How _cute_ is that story? Hanta is only human after all, he can't be blamed for laughing at the utter ridicule of the situation. "I see, I see! And what job do you do? Acrobat? Professional climber?"

Keeping the victim distracted is a very important part of the rescuing. That being said, Hanta has to admit he's just genuinely curious.

"Haha?" The dude laughs somewhat nervously. "Not exactly. I'm...I'm a computer engineer actually…"

A c _omputer engineer._ Bloody _hilarious_. Kirishima, Kaminari, and Ashido will have a fit when they hear the story tonight.

Alrightie, time to do some climbing. His faithful tape flies from his elbow straight toward the sturdy looking branch he picked. He tugged vigorously on the line. The branch barely shook. Good enough.

Wind whistles a familiar song in his ears as he suddenly retracts the length of his tape and goes up at full velocity. Damn, Hanta will never get tired of the feeling of flying. Or the closest approximation of flying he can do.

"Wow," he hears when he catches the branch, tentatively finding his balance. "Your Quirk is _so cool_ , Cellophane-san!"

Hanta can't help but preen internally. Personally, he knows his Quirk is awesome by its own right, yet doesn't get to hear compliments about it that often. A tape creating power doesn't sell dreams to the masses, no matter how reliable and useful it is.

He raises his head and squints upward. From his position, he can spot his target more clearly , huddled near the trunk three levels of branches above. "Ehe thank you! So, a computer engineer you said? That's cool too! I could use your skills right now, to be honest."

"You could ?" Red Boots asks skeptically.

"Heck yeah!" Hanta keeps on babbling as he works his way upward. The other man sounds calm enough considering the situation, but it never hurts to maintain a relaxed atmosphere. From his experience, fear tends to kick in at the worst moment. "See, I let my coworker use my computer without supervision for like, one hour. Big mistake. Ever since then my computer has been super weird."

True story. He only has himself to blame. He knows better than anyone how much a disaster Kaminari is, but he still let himself be coaxed by his puppy eyes.

"Oh. What kind of weird? Untimely pop-ups? Programs shutting down?"

"Yep to all that! And yes, I tried to reboot my computer… here we go!" Hanta cheers as he reaches the level underneath Red Boots. "Heya!"

Grinning in reassurance, Hanta meets eyes as green as the leaves surrounding them and feels his smile freezes on his lips. _Oh no, he's cute_. Not that he's actually surprised but geez. Everything, from the constellation of freckles under a moppet of vibrant green locks to the All Might themed sweatshirt is positively adorable, and Hanta clearly isn't paid enough to deal with this shit. The tabby kitten hiding between Red Boots' arms doesn't help either.

"Hello Cellophane-san," Red Boots smiles sheepishly. "F-Fancy meeting you here!"

Aaaaand he's funny too, because of course he is. Hanta has a huge weakness for people with humor. It's fine, everything is fine. Hanta can be cool and suave. He totally can. "I don't think I caught your name by the way?"

"Oh! I'm Midoriya. Midoriya Izuku. Thanks for...err... rescuing us. And if you get the two of us out of there alive, I swear I'll personally hunt down and exterminate the virus plaguing your computer."

"No problem, Midoriya-san," he finishes his ascension in what he hopes is a classy and smooth way, and sits next to the man on the branch. "''Tis kind of my job. I might hold you up to that offer though! So that's the little guy responsible for the commotion uh?"

Midoriya looks down on his lap and the timid kitten tucked between layers of bright yellow fabric. "Hm yeah, that's her. I don't think she belongs to anyone? She doesn't have a collar and she's...really skinny."

The other man's features soften with gentle concern when he caresses the top of his young protegée's small head. Hanta sharply orders his guts to cease with their unbecoming flailing. It doesn't work.

"Oh, hey, your arms," Hanta frowns as he notices Midoriya's reddish wrists.

"Oh, that," the green-haired says with casual indifference, rolling up his sleeves to expose his wounded skin. "They're just scratches. Kitty freaked out in the beginning, but now we're friends!"

As Kirishima would say: _what a manly dude_. Hanta could cry of emotion. In any case, Hanta is a responsible hero who always keeps a first aid emergency kit in the back chest of his motorbike. Unlike some ( _cough Ashido cough)_ people.

"Alright!" he claps his hands together. "Let's discuss plans. You'll need to hold her I assume. How about I carry you while you carry her?"

Midoriya blinks pensively, before bursting into an unexpected but hilarious mumbling discourse with himself. "Indeed it seems to be the better course of action. Kitty might freak out and attack if someone holds her, no offense Cellophane-san, and we don't need that. You can get us all down by tying us together, sticking your tape on the branch above us and releasing it slowly…"

Ah. Does he have to smart too? "Yep, that's what I was thinking. Bride-style would be more convenient for me if you don't mind?"

His green eyes widen, while a pretty shade of red blooms on his freckled cheeks. "Err I-I mean, i-if it's best for you…"

"Piggyback-ride seems riskier to be honest," Hanta chuckles sheepishly.

"O-oh, okay then?"

And that's basically how Hanta found himself with roughly seventy kilos of pretty boy plus one angry kitten in his arms, tied up to his chest with tape, at ten meters above the ground. Unexpectedly _buff_ pretty boy, if he may say so. No wonder Midoriya managed to climb all the way up with biceps like those, aaaand Hanta really needs to focus on the task at hand.

"You can..hm...put your arms around my neck if you need," Hanta says, avoiding to look at the man in his arms. "Ready?"

"R-Ready," Midoriya confirms with a wobbling smile as he puts his arms around Hanta's neck as instructed.

Hanta jumps.

"Ohmygod," Midoriya hisses as the tape slowly unravels above them. "This is _so cool_!"

Yeah, it really is. Hanta is very glad someone gets to appreciate his Quirk from close. "I'll take you on rides anytime you want Midoriya-san. Please don't get yourself stuck on another tree, though, please!"

"I make no promises," he giggles, looking around him with a delighted grin.

They reach a lower branch safely. Hanta tugs on his tape, and ties it to another spot, and the process starts again until they get to the ground. When Midoriya's red boots touch the grass, Hanta feels proud as if he had just saved an entire city all by himself. Man, he loves his job. At least he does when it ends happily like this.

"Well, here we are!" Hanta cheers, allowing himself to clap the other man's back. "Back to the good ol' mother Earth."

"Thank you so much!" Midoriya bows deeply in gratefulness, his little friend mewing with displeasure in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

Ehe. Well. Hanta scratches the back of his head awkwardly. Sparks of happiness explode in his ribcage at the sight of Midoriya petting Kitty with a fond smile. He felt it since the beginning of the whole thing. This man is _his people_. Common folk heroes.

"Ehe, my pleasure! Also, you were saying about the virus thing…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Title** : save the world (one kindness at the time)

 **Summary** : One doesn't need to be a hero to be a _hero_. Midoriya never gets One for All, never enters UA, never becomes Hero Deku. It doesn't mean he did nothing worthwhile with his life.

Or: the roads Midoriya's life could have taken, from the eyes of the pro heros who would have been his comrades. A set of future AUs from Class 1-A POV. Soft Dekubowl.

 **Rated** : T

 **Warning** : Kidnapping, acute stress disorder, telepathy.

 **Note** ; updated by alexai!

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 **Invisible Gal**

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The rat blissfully nibbling on what is left of the door doesn't have the decency to move out of the way when Tooru comes in. It hasn't noticed her. Of course it hasn't, why would it? Tooru is too good to get spotted by the local fauna, a fact she kind of hates right now. Talent is a curse sometimes, she thinks as she avoids the dirty rodent.

The theater of the day's mission is an abandoned house on the outskirts of town. It looks like the stage of an horror movie, which is something that Tooru is used to, sadly. When it's not gloomy squats, it's empty warehouses or dark sewers. Why can't criminals hide in fancy places for once? Tooru would _love_ to infiltrate luxurious villa or priceless hotels. But nooooo.

 _Can you focus on the mission, for fuck's sake?_

Yes, yes, Tooru is on it, jeez, people should chill already. This is exactly why she doesn't like working with Wireless. She's not even able to ramble in her own thoughts without the unasked for commentary of the telepath.

 _Rest assured I have no wish to be in your head either. The sooner we finish this, the sooner we'll be free of each other. I honestly don't know why Eraserhead recommended you for this mission._

It takes all Tooru's willpower not to laugh out loud at the foolish implication. Clearly Wireless doesn't know Aizawa as much as they think if they assume the teacher would indulge in favoristim. He recommended Tooru because she's the best at infiltration. Nothing more, nothing less.

 _Yes, yes, whatever. Take the stairs. Radar says he can feel both the target and the villain's presences on the second floor._

Tooru eyes the decrepit stairs unfolding on the front of her skeptically. This ancient thing looks two seconds away from crumbling. Seriously, those things she has to do for the sake of her job. Still, she manages to reach the second floor without falling, breaking the house, or making a single noise.

 _We get it, you're a genius. Go to the right._

Muffled sounds of talking reach her ears as she creeps down the corridor toward what used to be the main bedroom. Odd choice for a cell. How is the kidnapper supposed to escape when shit goes south? Such a sloppy plan. So inefficient. Villains those days, honestly.

 _Twice is mad._

There is a difference between mad and _stupid_. Tooru really hopes the villain and his hostage aren't in the bedroom for … _bedroom stuff_.

 _He doesn't fit the profile of a sexual aggressor_.

Wireless sounds uncertain, though, clearly not any more fond of sexual abuse than Tooru is. But there's no point worrying about it, because whatever's happening at the end of the corridor, Tooru can deal with it. She has to.

"...fortable, right? A bed is much better than some chair!" She recognizes the manic tone of Twice's voice slipping through the half-opened door. His voice switches from elated to threatening a second later. "Or not."

 _I can't believe that fool left the door open._

Tooru hardly can either. Such amateur work. Twice really has lost his marbles, hasn't he?

"I-I appreciate your consideration," a male voice stutters slightly in response.

She peeks inside through door's slight gap, catching sight of the villain's back. He's facing a nervous-looking, green-haired man handcuffed to the bed, and not even paying attention to the door. Tooru, from her position by the door, feels slightly offended by the lack of caution on the villain's part.

 _That's our target. He seems unharmed so far_.

Ah, yes. Memories of the file she has been given flash rapid-fire through her mind. Midoriya Izuku, twenty five years old, psychologist specialized in PTSD. No known association to villains, aside from a resolved incident when he was fourteen, even less to the long-dissolved League of Villains. He does have contact with pro-heroes though, what with the amount of trauma in their line of work. Perhaps that was the reason Twice kidnapped the man from his workplace? To get intel regarding Midoriya's patients? But to what end? The League's days were long gone.

Tooru waits for Wireless to make another snarky comment, but the telepath doesn't add anything. Weird.

 _There is nothing to comment. Midoriya's safety is our absolute priority. Don't worry about Twice escaping. We have people surrounding the building. He won't get far._

Duly noted. That's how Tooru was planning to operate in the first place.

"Aww, you're so well behaved, Midoriya! Best hostage ever. It's not personal, you understand? I'll let you go as soon as possible, okay?" Twice cooes, before switching to a darker tone again. "Or not."

"I understand," Midoriya says, sounding shockingly calm considering the situation. "You're doing what you have to, right, Twice-san?"

"Yes exactly!" The villain enthusiastically claps his hands together and gives a little giggle, not unlike a sound which one might expect from a schoolgirl. "You're a good man, I like you! No, I hate you! Once this is resolved, maybe I'll come see you. I think I could use a psychiatrist to be honest!"

Pfft, is he even real? How deluded is he to seriously suggest using the services of the person he's currently holding hostage? What a riot.

"Ah, I-I'm a psychologist, actually. A-and I'm afraid it wouldn't be very professional for me to take you as a patient," Midoriya replies, polite as fuck, "Due to the, you know...situation."

 _Hagakure._

One minute. She wants to be sure Twice won't notice her. And it's a very interesting conversation, she has to admit. She's astonished by Midoriya's coping skills. She can vaguely tell the guy is terrified under the veneer of blank civility, but she doubts Twice can. It's genuinely impressive. Most civilians would either be crying hysterically or shell-shocked into muteness. Not having a casual conversation with their kidnapper, and keeping said kidnapper's state of mind relatively stable.

"Oh. I see, I see. Anyway, I'll let you out as soon as Bakugou shows up."

Bakugou. As in, Bakugou Katsuki? Ground Zero? What does her former classmate and local human dynamite have to do with this? Is he a patient of Midoriya's? The simple thought of Bakugou condescending to do something as "extra" and "weak" as seeing as psychologist is absurd. Nope. Can't be real.

Wireless? Oi. _Wireless_ , seriously.

"Ah, er. About this. I'm sorry, but I think you got me mistaken with someone else?" Midoriya says tentatively, wincing with unease. "There's no reason for a big shot like Ground Zero to come personally get me?"

Yes. That's what Tooru wants to know, too. It's not surprising that a former member of the League would hunt down Bakugou, even years later. The man had been instrumental in their destruction, after all. But why would Twice think kidnapping a random psychologist would bring Bakugou to him? That kind of mission is hardly Lord Explosion Murder's kind of scene.

 _Hagakure. Do your fucking job already._

"Don't lie, Midoriya!" Twice cackles. "I know that you and Bakugou were childhood friends.. Maybe even childhood _sweethearts_. How lovely! How gross!"

Wait. Wait, _what_. No way. No fucking way. Bakugou barely does acquaintances, hardly recognizing Kirishima and the rest of the self-titled "Bakusquad"'s existence. He certainly doesn't indulge in friends, much less _sweethearts_. No way a cute, nice dude like Midoriya would datethatball of rage. He's a psychologist. In the improbable possibility those two once shared the same space, he would know better than to involve himself with a walking disaster like Bakugou.

Right? _Right?_

 _Fine, yes. Bakugou knows Midoriya. Twice kidnapped him to attract Bakugou here._

Oh. See, this is exactly why Tooru loathes working with Special Ops. They're all secretive bastards who won't tell her the shit she needs to know for her mission. At least her fellow underground heroes actually trust her. If Aizawa-sensei hadn't personally ask her to work on that case, she might have flip them the finger. Metaphorically. It hardly has the impact she's looking for when she flips the finger physically.

 _You didn't need to know. Bakugou hasn't realized yet, and we're going to keep it that way. Ground Zero barging in could compromise the success of the operation. Now get working before Twice loses his temper and kills our target._

See? Fucking assholes. But whatever. Tooru has a mission to accomplish, and that's exactly what she's going to do. She slides her hand under the long sleeve of her costume and pulls out her beloved tranquilizer gun. Yes, the outside part of her hero costume is made from her hair. No, she tries not to think too much about it.

Her weapon sadly isn't invisible, but Tooru is confident enough in her capability to shoot the bastard even if he notices her. Not likely, considering how absorbed he is by Midoriya. The bigger threat is the clones.

 _There is one clone in the kitchen, and one out on the patio. We have them both on Sniper's line of sight. You're free to act, Invisible Gal._

She raises her arm. Green eyes flicker briefly in her direction. She shoots. The tranquilizer buries itself in the back of Twice's neck.

He goes down.

 _Good job. We got the clones._

"Don't worry Midoriya-san." Tooru declares as she swiftly walks towards the victim. "I'm a pro-hero. We're here to rescue you."

She presses her finger against the villain's carotid, searching for a pulse. Satisfied, she removes the dart and ties his hands and feet together. He should be out for a bit, but a hero can never be too careful. Aizawa will track her down and gut her alive if she dares to neglect her safety and put a civilian's life in danger because of laziness.

"T-The keys are in his pockets." Midoriya says. "T-Thanks for coming for me, Invisible Gal."

Tooru freezes, before turning quickly to rummage through Twice's pockets. She's a underground hero, civilians aren't supposed to recognise her.. That being said, Midoriya does work with heroes. It makes sense he would be more knowledgeable on their world than most people.

 _Don't worry about it._

Tooru isn't _worried_. It's not like her entire career depends on her anonymity after all.

"No problem! Ehe, got it!" She holds up the keys triumphantly, smiling widely at Midoriya. "Are you unharmed?"

"Physically, yes." Midoriya smiles back wobbly. "Mentally...I'll probably collapse once we're out of here. I'm coping for the moment."

Wow. Midoriya really is something else, she thinks as she frees him from his shackles. She's aware he's a specialist of these kind of fucked up situations, but still. Talking about trauma in the safety of his office is drastically different from _living_ it.

His legs shake when he attempts to stand up. Tooru has to catch him before he falls.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Invisible Girl," Midoriya mumbles as he leans over Tooru, tremors shaking his body uncontrollably. "I thought I was doing okay aha!"

 _Don't move, Hagakure. We're coming to get you both out._

"Don't worry about it! You're doing great, Midoriya-san!" She rubs his back soothingly. "Let us do the rest of the work, okay?"

He laughs. The hysterical giggles coming out of his mouth sounds more like a nervous breakdown than actual amusement, but Tooru will take what she can get. "I'm...I'm not very good at that. Letting other people handle my problems, I mean."

Welp, ain't that a mood. She kind of sees how this guy and Bakugou can be... _friends_. Friends with Bakugou. What a revolutionary concept.

She smiles at him, and Midoriya smiles back. Damn. He's awfully pretty close up. Cute freckles. Not that Tooru has a type or anything. Ahem.

 _Hagakure. Really._

...Fucking telepaths.


End file.
